


Show And Tell

by elderprices



Category: The Book of Mormon - Parker/Stone/Lopez
Genre: Gen, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, POV First Person, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-24
Updated: 2015-10-24
Packaged: 2018-04-27 20:39:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5063299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elderprices/pseuds/elderprices
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Something's changed about Elder Price since the last time McKinley saw him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Show And Tell

**Author's Note:**

> This was a warm-up I wrote and couldn't bear to part with, so I'm sorry for the shortness!

I knew where that scar above your eyebrow came from. I remembered that you had tripped and fallen and scraped your forehead in elementary school. You told me how you cried for hours in the nurse’s office because of the pain, and how you had a huge scab there for school pictures. Now you could laugh about it. It didn’t hurt anymore.

My scars were different. They came in fours, and they ran across my upper arms and inner thighs. They didn’t result from anything worth laughing about. No fond memories. Barely any memories at all. They were dark and tender to the touch. Some rose above the skin and glistened in the right light. They drew attention. They made people frown or shift uncomfortably. Sometimes they made people ask questions. They weren’t fun. They weren’t souvenirs.

Years had passed since I saw you last. I expected a smile, a wrinkled little scar above your left eyebrow. I didn’t expect, as I sat undressing you feverishly, to find those same scars now lining your body. Some were redder than others, newly scabbed over, some even stinging at the slightest touch. I tried to smile, because I knew how painful it was to be asked. But afterwards, when you had passed out in a heap beside me, I held you close and kissed every one of them.

You woke up in a sweat to find my lips pressed against your inner thigh. Our eyes met. Your chest heaved. We both acknowledged the scars, against our better judgement. And you began to cry. And you forced my head back down and I kissed your bleeding skin. You apologized with spit thick in your teeth.

All I could do was kiss them. I didn’t want to be a hypocrite.


End file.
